


the weight of words

by imadetheline



Series: learning, little by little [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Gen, Treason, friends who plot together stay together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 03:08:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: Admiral Piett has to deal with three Skywalkers and their insane amount of family issues.
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Firmus Piett, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker
Series: learning, little by little [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100993
Comments: 16
Kudos: 56





	the weight of words

Piett can feel the migraine building behind his temples. But he’s a professional, so he doesn’t reach up to massage them like he wants to. He just raises his shoulders slightly and resolutely stares out the bridge viewport.

The last few days have been, well, chaotic, to say the least. Piett’s not sure what he expected from not one but two of Darth Vader’s children, which is a heart attack in itself. But he should have seen it coming. The resemblance is definitely apparent.

But the girl, who just so happens to be a leading member of the Alliance now onboard the Empire’s flagship, has been resolutely avoiding Lord Vader for the past two days. Piett’s not sure how she got on board. All he knows is that one day Luke Skywalker, the boy who blew up the Death Star, appears in the medbay with injuries from a crash, and then Lord Vader is pulling him aside and telling him that the boy is apparently his long-lost son and Piett’s in charge of making sure that fact remains secret. 

Piett doesn’t know why Vader’s put that much trust in him, but it’s equally as terrifying as it is affirming. So, with his mind reeling, he’d returned to work and had tech uniforms sent to the boy, as well as a discrete security detail. 

And then, a few days later, he’s being roped into more treason against the Emperor by Lord Vader and his newfound son as part of some long plan. So, all in all, not an uneventful week.

And not a month later, another long-lost child appears, and it just so happens to be another leader of the Rebellion. It makes Piett exceedingly grateful he never had children if this is what their rebellious phases look like. Although, he’s sure it’s made worse by the fact that they’ve inherited DNA from Lord Vader, which is bound to make everything more dramatic.

Still, for the past two days, Piett’s been sure he’s going to collapse at any moment, fully prepared for another child to come crashing into the side of the Lady. And Organa still refuses to talk to her father, locked in one of the spare officer’s suites. Only her brother is allowed to enter. And he’s spent most of his time for the past few days with her in her room, surely planning something. He doesn’t quite blame them, though he’d never admit it. Lord Vader is not the kindest nor most personable father figure.

So Piett’s stationed guards outside the door, and he makes sure food and clothes are delivered daily. But in the children’s absence, he has to deal with Lord Vader’s--and he struggles to come up with another word for it, but he hasn’t found one-- _ sulking _ around the Lady.

His Commander’s paperwork hasn’t been getting done, and Piett’s been scrambling to do it after shifts on the bridge, so the Emperor doesn’t notice anything amiss. And normally, Piett’s sure half the bridge crew would be dead by now because of Lord Vader’s bad mood, but oddly, everyone has remained alive. He has a suspicion that’s Skywalker’s doing, but he hasn’t had much of a chance to talk to either of the rebels in the chaos of the last month, so he’s left to ponder it, albeit thankfully.

He gets reports from Dess every few days, the trooper in charge of Skywalker’s security detail. From them, he’s gathered that the boy seems to be the complete opposite of Lord Vader, although Piett’s never going to voice that thought aloud because he likes breathing; thank you very much.

He barely withholds a sigh, turning on his heel to check in with one of the officers stationed along the wall when his comm beeps. He raises his wrist without thinking, leaning over one of the monitors, “Admiral here.”

The comm crackles and then, “Commander Dess, sir. The… um…. They-”

Piett straightens, nodding to the officer in front of the monitor, and focuses all his attention on the unintelligible mutterings of Dess on the other end, “Spit it out, Commander.”

“Yes, sorry, sir. It’s the uhh  _ children _ of um… you know.” Piett doesn’t bother to contain his sigh, and if he was less professional, he might have facepalmed. “They want to speak with you, sir. I told them you were busy, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. And I didn’t think it best to argue with them further because… well-” 

Dess is rambling now, and Piett quite understands the feeling, but he doesn’t have time for it, “Alright, commander. Where are they?”

The comm crackles again, “Lord Vader’s private hangar, sir.”

Piett’s stomach drops, “I’ll head there, immediately.” And he doesn’t wait for a response, ending the call as quickly as possible. He turns on his heel, eyes roving the sea of officer’s caps until he finds the right one, “Captain Kelly.” The man in question turns, a question in his eyes. “You have the bridge.” And the Captain thankfully knows enough not to ask questions, just salutes and turns back to monitoring some internal repairs. 

So Piett straightens his cap and walks swiftly off the bridge, his steps quicker than normal. If the children are in Vader’s private hangar, that means a family collision between the three of them is likely to occur, and Piett wants to get there before that explosion catches his ship and crew in the middle.

The halls seem longer than they usually do, even for a miles-long Star Destroyer, and he’s viscerally aware of every passing second that seems to echo in time with his polished boots on the metal floors, every second that he expects the ship to shake beneath his feet as an alarm begins to blare. But it never comes.

He nods at passing troopers and ensigns as he turns corners, reminded with every serious or smiling or helmeted face that these are his crew and he’s responsible for their lives and if his Commander decides to blow a hole in the side of the Lady because of some family dispute their deaths are partly on him. When he became Admiral in a truly terrifying series of events, he’d vowed to do his best to protect the men and women under his command.

So he picks up his pace again, finally catching sight of the door to Vader’s hangar. Piett slams a hand into the controls, barely even waiting for it to open before he’s stepping inside, eyes scanning over the multitude of ships in various states of disarray before he catches sight of a head covered in a dark crown braid across the room. Her brother and father are nowhere in sight, but Piett doesn’t have time for relief as he immediately starts weaving his way around the ships to her. He’s glad to see she’s out of her room, and she’s changed into the tech uniforms he’d had sent up, similar to her brother’s, both in shades of black. But he wishes she might have picked somewhere to spend her time where she’s less likely to run into her father and cause an emotional outburst from the man.

He sees her eyes flick to him as he rounds a TIE advanced, but she makes no move to acknowledge him, just turns back to the x-wing she’s standing next to and seems to say something to it. Piett’s brows furrow for a moment before he steps around another speeder and finally makes out the boots sticking out from under the x-wing. So that’s why she’s here. Skywalker had obviously coaxed her out of her room to join him while he worked on ships. Though, it seems she doesn’t share the same love for mechanics as her father and brother.

Finally, Piett’s within hearing distance, and he opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, Organa fixes him with her wild dark eyes, and Skywalker pulls himself out from under the x-wing, his face streaked with grease but his eyes no less bright and piercing. Piett flails for a minute under the combined weight of both their gazes, the air heavy around his shoulders, weighing his tongue down. He’s being examined, sized up; it almost feels like they’re looking right through him, their heads tilted and eyes too bright to be human. He can definitely see the family resemblance now. 

But he just inhales deeply and settles his heartrate, tucking all his thoughts in a box in the back of his mind like he’s practiced all this time aboard the Executor, and clears his throat, “You wished to speak with me…” He’s not quite sure what their titles are supposed to be. Are they royalty? Well, Organa certainly is, even if she wasn’t related to Lord Vader. So he just settles on “Your highnesses?”

And suddenly, the weight on his tongue is gone, the stickiness in the air disappeared, and Skywalker laughs, loud and bright, breaking the silence, “Just Luke is fine, Admiral.”

Organa shoots him a glare, and he just shrugs, smiling, and she turns back to Piett, who’s still not quite sure how to process all of this, “General Organa,” is all she says, ignoring the informal attitude of her brother. Luke glares, but she ignores him, so Piett carefully adds that difference to the growing list of information he has on the twins before she continues, “Admiral…?”

He clears his throat again, his gaze flicking from one dark-clad twin to the other before he focuses his attention on Organa, “Piett, your highness.”

Piett feels more than sees Skywalker’s smile even before he laughs again, drawing Piett’s gaze as he ducks under the x-wing once more. And Piett realizes the last time he truly saw the boy, he was lying injured in the medbay. He seems perfectly healthy and happy now. “No need for the formalities, Admiral. We  _ are _ all committing treason together, after all. Why not be friendly?” And Piett definitely understands what Dess had meant when he’d said the boy was ‘the complete opposite of Lord Vader.’

Organa rolls her eyes and says warningly, “Luke…” And Piett glances back and forth between them, but the rest of their conversation seems to continue without words, so he’s left to guess as the silence lengthens, broken only by the clanking of whatever Skywalker’s working on beneath the ship.

Finally, Organa sighs and turns her back to her brother, so she’s facing Piett fully as she crosses her arms over her dark tunic, “Sorry about all this, Admiral. Trust me; I understand how difficult this must be.” She glances back down at Luke’s feet, a flash of some unreadable emotion on her face, and he sees her hands grip her arms a little tighter, but then she’s looking back at him, her deep brown eyes sharp, “We may have differing ideas, but I’ve been  _ assured _ that you also want what’s best for the galaxy and its people.” The way she says assured tells Piett that Luke has done his best to convince her, but she still seems doubtful. Piett doesn’t fault her for her suspicion. He’d had his fair share of them at first, and the Rebellion has done a lot less to personally hurt him than the Empire has to personally hurt her.

“Of course, your-” He stumbles over the title, fixing his mistake, “General.” 

The princess smiles, but it’s not quite happy, “We just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving tonight to head back to the Alliance, and Luke-” At his name, she kicks one of his boots pointedly, and there’s a thump as he pulls himself out from under the x-wing again, rubbing at his head and glaring up at her. She just smirks and looks back to Piett who’s eyebrow has crept up his forehead slightly, “will probably be on and off the Executor while we carry out this whole plan, so it would probably be best if you were my contact onboard, seeing as communication with him won’t always be reliable.” She tilts her head, considering, as Luke pulls himself up, brushing invisible dirt off his uniform and shaking his hair out of his eyes. “If you’re willing, that is,” she amends, glancing to her brother, who nods.

Piett’s eyebrow raises even higher, “Of course.” Luke’s face brightens as he reaches for a rag to wipe the oil from his fingers, and Piett glances back to Organa, catching her eye, “But if I may ask, why not contact Lord Vader directly?”

Immediately, he can tell he’s asked the wrong thing. He’d assumed from her almost pleasant demeanor in the past few minutes that perhaps she had made up with her father. But as soon as Vader’s name leaves his mouth, Luke’s face falls, his bright eyes darting to his sister in worry. And her gaze hardens, the warm brown turning hard like earth as her fists clench. Piett’s shoulders tense, waiting for the crumpling of metal that occasionally accompanies fluctuations in Vader’s mood or the pressure around his throat. But while the air feels like a weight in his lungs, nothing happens.

The ships scattered around the hangar maintain their shapes, no sound of metal groaning to break the silence, and air slides in and out of Piett’s lungs unimpeded.

“I have no wish to speak with  _ him _ .” The venom in her voice is like ice, the twin to the razor-sharp blade of her gaze.

But then suddenly, the oppressive atmosphere is gone as well, the princess’s hands relaxed at her side and a smile once again on her cheeks, though this one lacks the warmth from before, almost painted on her pale cheeks, her voice innocently sweet. “I’d much rather speak with you, Admiral. Commander Dess has spoken so highly of you, after all,” she says, once more tilting her head as if examining him, ignoring her brother’s concerned gaze.

Piett is used to swift changes in topic. It’s one of the things that makes him so adept at keeping up with Lord Vader’s mood swings. But he might need to have a talk with Commander Dess about discussing superior officers with anyone who happens aboard the Lady as it seems Dess has already been striking up casual conversation with Lord Vader’s daughter, who’s been on the ship for less than two rotations. All he says is, “He is too kind.” And it’s true. Piett hasn’t done anything that isn’t his duty as Admiral of the Fleet.

Leia’s answering smile is wry and almost wicked, sending a shiver down Piett’s spine at how similar to Vader she looks in that moment, “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we, Admiral?”

She doesn’t wait for a response, and Piett is glad because he doesn’t think he has one. And despite her obvious disdain for him and the position he occupies, Piett finds he doesn’t dislike her. She reminds him of Lord Vader, though he knows enough not to mention the similarities, but mostly the qualities in Vader that had earned her father Piett’s loyalty.

She finally acknowledges her brother, nodding at where he’s standing to the side, glancing warily between the two of them, “Luke has given me your encrypted comm signal. I’ll be in touch with updates hopefully once a month.” She again looks to Luke, who raises his eyebrows at her. Her expression doesn’t shift as Piett glances between them, trying to figure out if they’re done speaking with him.

Finally, Luke sighs and turns away from his sister, pulling up a tired smile, “I can walk you back to the bridge, Admiral.”

Piett glances over the boy’s shoulder and sees Organa roll her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything, so he looks back to Luke’s bright gaze. Normally, he’d politely decline and make a swift exit, but he has a feeling Luke wants to speak with him, so he nods. Luke smiles gratefully and lightly touches his sister’s arm before he’s pulling away and stepping around a TIE. Piett follows after him, casting one last glance at the girl staring with hawk-like eyes after them.

Luke’s voice breaks through the silence before they’re even halfway across the hangar, “Like Leia said, we are sorry about all this.” And Luke glances over his shoulder at Piett, looking tired beyond his years. 

Piett sympathizes, and his voice is softer than usual when he replies, “It’s alright. I’m quick at adapting, and you don’t get to my position without getting used to the constant change.”

Luke sighs and steps around another half-assembled cargo ship. Piett’s not sure where Lord Vader acquires half these machines. “I know. But I also know how busy you are without adding our mess to it,” he chuckles wryly.

Piett doesn’t have a response to that, so he doesn’t say anything, just walks after the boy. The door to the hangar slides open with a hiss, and they exit the ringing silence to enter back into the familiar workings of the ship: the chatter of passing ensigns, the beeping of mouse droids underfoot, and the quiet humming of the Lady as she keeps them all alive in the vacuum of space.

For another moment, Luke is silent at his side, a step behind Piett as he follows his direction towards the bridge. Piett uses the silence to catalog the new information and assessments of each twin into organized lists, which he tucks away to organize later after his shift. But then Luke speaks again, pulling Piett from his thoughts, “Leia, my sister-” Luke pauses on those words as if contemplating how they fit between his teeth, and Piett wonders how long they’ve known of their relation. But then he’s continuing, “She’s not- not usually that…” He struggles for a word, and Piett watches his bright eyes glance around the hall, seemingly ages older than the boy Piett knows he is, the boy he saw lying injured in the medbay only weeks ago. Finally, he seems to settle on “abrasive.”

“These are just very extenuating circumstances.” He gestures vaguely at the grey halls and white-clad stormtroopers passing them, but Piett knows he’s speaking about his father. “There’s a lot of bad blood.” Piett’s gaze is drawn from the path in front of him to the barely noticeable clench of Luke’s fingers at his side--the hand Piett knows from the medical report is gears and metal, not flesh. And then the same hand is running through Luke’s blond hair, ruffling the already messy strands. He chuckles without humor, “Reasonably so.” And Piett has to agree. The emptiness where Alderaan should be weighs heavily on his own conscience, even though he had no direct dealings with it. 

The silence hangs between them for another moment, and suddenly Luke doesn’t look ages beyond his years. He looks like a boy, weighed down by exhaustion, and Piett has the brief urge to wrap Luke up in a blanket and force him back into the medbay while he drags his Vader back from wherever he’s hidden himself away from his responsibilities and hurting children to demand he at least try to fix things.

Luke glances to him, eyes widening as his lips quirk up at the sides, and Piett remembers a beat too late about Vader’s mind-reading powers and that he’s standing next to Vader’s son, so he quickly tucks his flash of protective anger away and pointedly ignores Luke’s small smile as the boy looks back at the hall, his step a bit lighter. “Just give her some time,” Luke sighs, his voice tinged with the slightest hint of hope.

Piett’s fingers twitch at his side, and he shakes his head softly, “She doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t expect it. I will continue to help your father and you both as well, no matter your feelings toward me.” It’s true. He doesn’t begrudge the princess her emotions, and he’s already surprised she treated him with as much dignity as she had, considering all she’s lost at the Empire’s hands.

Luke looks at him out of the side of his eye, and his smile grows, “You’re a good man, Admiral. I can see why my father trusts you.” Piett doesn’t respond, just glances at the boy as they approach the door to the bridge. “And I think my sister will see that too eventually.”

The bridge door slides open before he can respond, and Piett catches sight of Captain Kelly through it, everything still running smoothly under the competent officer’s eye. Luke stops just outside, and Piett pauses, raising an eyebrow before he steps in. The boy just does a casual two-finger salute, grinning brightly, “Good luck, Admiral. I’m sure we’ll speak again soon.” And then he’s disappearing down the corridor, his black uniform getting lost among the other techs and ensigns traversing the grey halls.

Piett just shakes his head, perhaps fondly, and adjusts his cap, entering the bridge once more.

<<<>>>

Organa does indeed contact him a month later, now dressed in a white jumpsuit as she compares intel and shares the proceedings of their plan, all business and precise words, her eyes sharp. And Piett takes no offense. He, too, prefers to stick to logistics and strategy rather than get mired down in small talk. But he feels she deserves this one thing from him. It’s the least he can give her.

So before she has a chance to end the call, he cuts in, “Princess,” she pauses, her hand hovering over her comm, so he continues, “For what it’s worth, I am sorry for your loss.” The loss of Alderaan has always hung heavy over his own loyalty to the Empire, and he has no trouble admitting to himself that while he mourns the lives lost on the Death Star, he has never for one moment mourned the loss of that technological terror.

Leia seems to pause as if taken aback, and she blinks. “It’s worth a lot, Admiral.” And he thinks he sees a sad smile tug at her lips, the whisper of warmth in her eyes. Yes, Piett thinks they might get along well yet.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


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